


I Need a Resolution

by Lighteclair13



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: AU, Comfort, Epilogue, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Regret, army mentions, friends I guess, normal lives, off the island, park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lighteclair13/pseuds/Lighteclair13
Summary: Even though their feet are on the familiar cobbled ground of the grimy streets of London, Jack still feels like they were all on the island just yesterday. His thoughts have been clambering at his head, and he knows that what he thinks is not normal.Or the one where Ralph and Jack are mutually co-existing, and Jack finally tells Ralph his darkest fears.





	I Need a Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I wrote this as an epilogue for English a while back, but I still love it and I will post it here :D Enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, and they are only truly described in The Lord of the Flies itself.

Stones clattered across the paved street, they danced, trotted and then came to a standstill. Their paths were illuminated by a stream of dull bronze light; a jeering spotlight that pushed away the shadows. Polished shoes kicked the rocks further, crossing the patches of light, until one kick was not accurate, and the drains claimed their prize with a gentle drop. Thoughts swirled in the boy's head; memories of figures in the dark, twisting minds, shadows that mimicked fire, and savages that roamed an island. Some were relived each night, terrorising him with claws like a behemoth. The ones where there was a splattering of red across the ocean, caused by a savage beast, or the tearing of flesh and limbs of an innocent young child by a pack of vicious wolves. Were there wolves on the island? He knew there was an island. Jack reminded him constantly of it. Although his company was sometimes pleasant at times, it could be painful; a thorn in his side. 

The number of fortress-like buildings surrounding Ralph began to diminish, the soft light fading until there was only a solitary lamppost, standing guard of its surroundings. The light cascaded onto an ethereal park, the leaves and the trees were shrouded in something a little more mysterious than the coolness of night. It was eerily quiet, with the exception of the gentle trickle of the water feature and the soft thrum from distant cars that floated over every inch of the dark greenery. A small, dilapidated park bench contrasted the curling, deep foliage, it was distinct and might have been beautiful in a past life. The light from the lamppost seemed to be drawn only to this bench. A figure sat there, his wild crimson hair lay askew, obvious that the character did not care. His dark clothing seemed fit for the foreboding setting. The delicate leaves that were caught in the radius of the light allowed patterns to scatter and loop on his face, hiding the freckles that bridged his nose. 

"Ralph." Jack spoke, looking up from his drawing book that lay open on his lap, spilling scratched charcoal sketches and hurried sentences.

"Hullo." Ralph gently sat down, making sure there was at least a small distance between the two. He wanted to say something, but a small silence creeped up on them. Some days it was like this, an overpowering quiet that they mutually accepted. Ralph had long ago decided that he liked this much better than a cold night with only himself for company.

"I had the dream again," Jack whispered, breaking the silence. His words echoed around the still park. It seemed to swallow his breath and demand more. "The one where I killed everyone on the island."

"It's becoming a regularity," Ralph muttered back to him. He wished he could do more. He had to admit, he did feel bad for Jack. He seemed his usual scowling self, albeit a little more fragile, when they had arrived back from the island. However, it was a short amount of time until Ralph had seen him retreat into this park, weeping and sobbing into the open, crisp air where no one seemed to care.

"There was something different about this time, though," Jack said, suddenly seeming a little more eager to share. 

Ralph looked at him with a bewildered expression. Every time, the dream was the same, but not today. He swallowed, knowing that whatever Jack would tell him next would have been a burden on his heart for a while now.

Jack coughed, a little nervous, yet still managing to keep his 'I-don't-care' demeanour. "I realised that I..." He breathed and looked at Ralph. "I... I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing everyone. I planned out their demise, even the littluns. I felt so powerful and glorious, and my hands dripped with blood of them all, but I still wanted more. They still came, the rescuers, and I wanted them to take me- to save me. But they only looked at me with disgust. They spat at me, left me behind. I watched them all sail off onto the damned blue sea that we had stared at for an eternity. You too, Ralph, you went. You were the first to go. But what I remember the most is that they called me a murderer. The worst thing is, is that I am, Ralph, I am. I tell myself that I hated it, but what if I actually enjoyed it? What if I am a murderer?"

There was nothing that could be said. Silent sniffles shuddered Jack's body in waves. Ralph immediately destroyed the gap that he had initially created, sliding his arm across Jack's shoulders, and pulling him closer to his side. He seemed unbearably warm, and Ralph could feel the heat rushing from Jack's shuddering back, his face still clutched desperately in the holds of his hands. It seemed endless, the sobs, and Ralph turned his eyes to the blanket of spattered, glittery stars that scattered in the foggy and thick air. To him, Jack was not a murderer. He was a person. Ralph knew that whatever had occurred on the island, it did not define a someone. They were all different there. The coursing adrenaline, the fiery competition and the sudden exposure to the harsh anarchy that was in itself manipulated by the animalistic aura of the island was enough to drive anyone insane. What Ralph had witnessed out there was a sinister, fiendishly atavistic world that would have made modern civilisation and society shudder. Jack was a monster out there, but he had to be. Ralph knew that. He thought Jack had known it, too. Eventually, Ralph felt Jack still under his arm, the convulsions wearing away. He stayed, holding onto him, watching their breaths condense and float away in the air. There was that pesky silence again. Gently, Ralph broached a new topic, albeit not a brighter one. "My father said that Russia has declared war," he whispered to the curly mop of Jack's hair.

Finally, Jack lifted his head, half smiling, his eyes were a little on the redder side and his face was flushed. "Of course. How could there be a peaceful world... When..." When the beast existed. The beast that lay within all of them: scratching, biting, tearing, ripping. Ever present and perpetually contorting the world.

"I also heard that Roger is going to be a commander in the British army." Ralph continued, interrupting the thoughts of the beast.  
Jack stilled, his hands finding his face again. "Joined the army..." He exhaled another puff of air into the cooling night and stared at the stars as if they held the answers.  
"Yes, I imagined he would join the army. It's almost like he was born for it." 

Ralph sighed, remembering Roger's dark expressions, but mostly the rock. The tumbling, red rock that had struck something hard. Ralph couldn't remember what it struck, but what happened after was something that was a dark, scarlet red. It had swirled around in the bubbling ocean with soft pink curls shimmering across the surface. Roger's eyes were the worst; a solid darkness that ignited with fire, passion- a terrifying passion that was dangerous and untameable. What if that passion was leading the army?

"Ralph." Jack spoke. His nose twitched.

"Yes..." 

Another long breath, another cold silence. Another far-off car screech from the suburbs scrawling the city. "I'm going to join the army."

Ralph stopped, staring at Jack who seemed determined now, face considering the empty darkness of the street in front of him. Ralph was suddenly conjured into a world where Jack, the broken and empty Jack, stumbled onto the frontline. Flashes of guns and wounds and bleeding and broken limbs flew through his mind. The booming calls of the commanders shuddering around the soldiers stuck in the mud, the war paint of blood and clay slashed across Jack's plain face. His eyes, he could see, were dull and mindless, like he remembered Roger's to be. Finally, the worst thing he pictured was Jack's pale body being covered with soft dirt, the particles tickling his eyelashes and filling the bullet holes that covered his body.

"No..." Ralph concluded, though a little uncertain. 

Jack sat up straighter, seemingly more determined and Ralph was getting continuously worrisome. "Why not?" Jack had sorrowfully retorted. "A war is a place for murderers. I know that's why Roger's there. Who knows... I might like it. I'll be a hunter again." He looked forlornly at Ralph. "Remember, I almost killed you, Ralph." He visibly shuddered and looked at his feet. "I need to go."

Ralph's throat choked. "Jack, you're not murderer. It's the island, you-!"

But Jack had bounded up from the bench, clutching the broken drawing book, a little determination in his step. His long legs covered more ground than Ralph's eyes could keep up with. Before Ralph could even spill out any more choked words, Jack had marched past the comforting round glow from the last lamppost and his now dark silhouette waltzed past the lines of stoic buildings, leaving the quiet park behind with Ralph sitting on the painted bench. It was empty now. It was empty before, he knew, but there was this new kind of emptiness that filled his being, his mind. It was so unbearable that his clammy hands shook, and he felt every inch of his being contorting, the element of fear sinking its claws into his soft body. A tear moistened the corner of his eye as Jack turned into the artificial cacophony of the main street and kicked away some stray stones. The sound of them falling in to the drain was a gentle drop.


End file.
